


Comforts of Home

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Insecurities, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 16:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Nyx had never thought he would feel insecure about his personal little haven in the depths of the city.





	Comforts of Home

After a year of living in the barracks and dormitories reserved for the new Kingsglaive recruits, Nyx was eager to get his own place. It didn't matter that it was buried under several layers of city, or that it was little more than a single room with a functional kitchen and shower. It didn't matter that it was buried so deep in the refugee districts that he could almost never see the sky for the maze of buildings and lights. 

It was his, and that's all that mattered. His and he didn't need to share. There wouldn't be other recruits limping in after long days training, or waits for the showers. There wouldn't be the need to plaster on an indulgent smile over stupid jokes at the crack of dawn from the group of hated morning people. Or the need to stop and salute as training mandated every time he passed someone of a higher rank (and at that point, everyone was a higher rank).

He justified it, at first, by saying that it was cheap. He was putting away plenty of savings for something bigger, cleaner, quieter, better. He said that he didn't need much room, that moving was a hassle, that he only needed the space to sleep and shower. He spent years turning away invitations from Libertus— who settled easily and early in one of the nicer edges of the district, where he spent his life savings on a little condo and kept it funded and manageable through a rotation of roommates he enticed with a reasonable rent until he could afford it on his own. He turned down Crowe— who seemed to move every year like clockwork— who was on a steady ladder up to the garden districts because she “missed the air.” He even turned away Luche, who tried to sell him on the appeal of a place closer to the headquarters, outside of the district housing refugees from their own islands.

Nyx spent years telling them that he liked his little hole, with his small bed pushed into one nook and the kitchen was opposite. He spent years telling his friends that the money he saved went back home to his mother (and most did, but never in the amounts that could get her into trouble with the occupying Nifs). He spent years telling himself that he was fine where he was. 

He didn't need much. He didn't want much. 

He was fine.

At least until there was a young man who had spent his life in far greater luxury than Nyx could have really imagined. He was perfectly content with his little apartment buried deep away from the sunlight and sky and the gardens of the city everyone else seemed to call a ’jewel’ until Noctis asked to see where he lived. 

“You wouldn't like it, sunshine,” Nyx said one morning when Noctis brought it up. One morning when they had nothing better to do than to stay in Noct's overlarge, far too soft bed and explore each other while the day stretched out ahead of them. When they were too warm beneath the blankets and the glare of sunlight was already squeezing through the blinds. 

“Shouldn't I decide if I like it or not?” Noct would press against him, let his hands wander, his smile press against warm flesh in kisses. It seemed sacrilegious to disrupt the peace of the morning with voices louder than a whisper. 

And Nyx could never resist those blue eyes, or that smile; that sweetness he had learnt Noct used like one of his weapons. He thought briefly of a sudden move; of taking his savings and his built up weeks of leave and use it all to move to a better place. Or finally taking up Libertus’ offer and passing off his friend’s apartment as his own. Or possibly just saying that he lived in the barracks— the spartan elegance to the Lucian military was more appealing than the slums Nyx had taken a liking to. “Fine, fine. Let me clean it up a bit first.”

Cleaning was the least of the plans he had. When he got home the night after the plans made to keep Noct in for a night, Nyx found that he was all too aware of every speck of peeling plaster and chipped paint he should have addressed years ago. Regardless of the laundry and the tidiness of his few belongings not kept out of a fundamental necessity for life, he found that he didn't really seem to be living at his own apartment anymore. 

It was comfortable. It was mostly quiet. It was close to the fairly robust transit system Insomnia could boast. But it was empty. It was small and cramped, claustrophobic if not for the starkness of the white paint and the minimal furnishings of bed, table, and chairs. 

At least compared to the spacious apartment Noctis called home, with its clutter and mess and vibrant sense of life beyond just necessity. 

Restocking the fridge came first; he had promised dinner, and already had plans for something savoury imitated at the street food stalls Noct seemed to like. The food was the easy part— familiar recipes flooding back from years throwing pub fare together. The scent of spices that lingered well before he actually started cooking— the strength of them clinging to the air of the apartment by virtue of just being tested as Nyx regaining his footing in his own kitchen. 

There were fresh sheets, and a newer pair of pillows. The crisp linens and fresh laundry reminding of the week's of spring cleaning back home— when his mother would open every window in the house to draw in the breeze as she set him and Selena to work. 

Despite the freshness and the change of air, the place still felt small— the weight of the city pressing down on it, the noise of the lively district pulsing through the walls and plaster. Despite the change and air and moving his few pieces of furniture around, the apartment was still nothing special. It was nothing compared to the wide, spacious rooms of the Citadel. It was a single, poorly designed room compared to Noct’s apartment. 

“As good as it can be,” is all Nyx can offer when he finally shows Noct in. 

He waits for the disapproval. The teasing and scoffing. He waits to hear the words he's heard from Crowe and Libertus for years to leave the mouth of the prince. He waits, as Noct explores with his hand trailing over cracked countertops and splintering table, for a blow to his ego that never came. 

“Are these all in Galahdian?” Noct asked once he was stopped in front of a row of books— pieces of story and history salvaged of a homeland Nyx never really expected to return to. 

“Yeah.”

“Can you teach me?”

It wasn't until later— after dinner, after they couldn't keep their hands off of each other, after they were pressed together in the narrow bed pushed into the little nook— that Nyx finally asked the question. It came out as Noct smiled against him, as bright blue eyes closed against the race of their hearts and the pulse of the noise in the streets. “What do you think of the place, little prince?”

“It's very you.”

“I don't know if that's a compliment.”

“It is.” Nyx smiled as the prince settled close, as the heat between them threatened to make the stuffiness of the little apartment turn stifling. He smiled as Noct hummed against his chest. “It's very comfortable.”


End file.
